If Tomorrow never comes... (Inkwell prompt #54)

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There is a transient state between sleeping and waking that belongs to me alone. It is a world of dreams, and uncertainty, where tomorrow never comes, but all my yesterdays still exist. It is a place where I spend most of my time.


I lean forward and flick the dial on the car radio; the resulting silence an impenetrable shield between us. Casting my eyes tentatively towards Stefan, I see his gaze is still fixed unflinchingly on the road ahead. A single tear escapes the corner of his left eye and begins its slow journey down his cheek, rolling awkwardly in fits and starts, its salty salutation brushing the edges of his pursed soft lips before it stops rather abruptly, caught in the once beautifully manicured goatee that skirts the shape of his face. Beneath the now unkempt facial hair, lies perfectly chiseled features long hidden from the world. I know they are there. I still feel them whenever I cup his face in the palms of my hands.

I love you, you know that! It's just...I can't... I can't do this anymore...

I feel awful for being the one to throw in the towel. If you'd asked me 2 years ago whether I could ever have imagined being in this position, I would have laughed in your face. It was impossible to contemplate... yet, here we are.

Stefan's parents have both passed in the intervening years; covid whipped them both away from us before their time. It knocked him for six. When he had come out to them at 16 years old, they had shown him such love and acceptance. When we then met and fell for each other just a few years later, they had welcomed me into the family with open arms and kindness in their hearts. They had championed us from the start and it had meant the world to us both. And now, his biggest cheerleaders, his Mom, and Dad were no longer there for him. But, that wasn't all. Stef hasn't worked in nearly two years, covid also claimed his career... and the thing is... it wasn't just a job to him, it was his entire life , outside of us of course. You see, Stefan is an artist... but... he doesn't paint pictures on canvas, he performs on stage. It is his undying passion, the thing that fulfills him most in life... and that pleasure was ripped from his heart and has been denied for too long.

He is a shadow of the man he once was. His pride, his passion, his joy, ... his heart; all were stripped from him when covid struck. We tried therapy but he quit. I am all he has left, but that isn't enough to keep him from disappearing under that awful cloak of darkness, so deep that most days I struggle to reach him at all. It's gut-wrenching.

My hands have been outstretched, and my heart open, for so long, and all I want is for him to reach back. But he doesn't. For some reason, he can't, and I am just so tired. I have nothing left to give. Each time I've tried to break through to him it's felt as though I were taking a claw tool to his mind, trying unceremoniously to access his thoughts and emotions. It felt wrong and it was never going to work like that. I need a break, and so I've sought help.

... But what does one say to the love of one's life after so many years? There is no easy way to do it. Pull the rug, rip off the bandaid. It's best when it's just done quickly, right? But it isn't. Whoever said that, was wrong!

My feelings for Stef haven't changed. But he has. And that is the elephant in the room that we have been dealing with for so many months.

It's not like it's gonna be forever... we both just need a little time, you know. Time to get our heads around where we are in our lives and what we both want for our future. You've been in a downward spiral for the best part of two years now and I just don't know how to help you anymore... I can't do this alone Stef... you need help. We need help.

Despite my protestations, Stef continues to stare blankly, motionless, except for the occasional stick change and gentle turn of the wheel. We are eating up the miles on the open road, both sat in near silence. When he eventually speaks, it is a jackhammer to my heart.

Alex, please don't give up on me... I... I need you. I don't know how to do this without you...

His words are few but they almost break me. Stef doesn't know how to live without me, but I no longer know how to live with him, and that is so very much a part of the problem.

I look up into his big olive-green eyes. He is staring intently at me. Silent. The tears are now streaming down his face, staining his skin as they run amok, unleashed. I manage a weak smile and his face lights up.

I don't know which one of us appreciates the danger first, but we seem to turn as one towards the source. The brakes squeal as my hands push back hard against the dash, bracing. As our vehicle swerves off the road, I avert my gaze from the oncoming headlights, already burning bright into the retinas of my eyes...

That... and Stefan's large protective hand across my chest are the last things I remember about that night.


My neural activity has been escalating recently, so many memories, previously scattered to the wind, replay inside my mind. All of my yesterdays tucked away deeply, brought with ever-quickening pace to the fore. Cognition is a beautiful thing, isn't it? These gamma oscillations are the things that I now hold on to, with every ounce of strength left in my body; for at least they remind me that I once lived. Will I again? Is Stef somewhere... out there... waiting for me?

The thing is... I don't know yet how it all plays out, because I'm stuck. I cannot free myself from this reverie. A seemingly permanent stasis. I have lost track of how long I've been lying here in this sterile cot on a sterile floor surrounded by four sterile walls unable to communicate or interact with the outside world.

I can't wake up.

I wonder momentarily if Stefan ever did...

The answers may lie somewhere in our future.

but...

I have no idea if tomorrow will ever come.


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